


The Nature of Aaron Burr

by ireallydowritelikeimrunningoutoftime



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: (you know like dobby...), 18th Century, Aaron Burr is British, Aaron Burr-centric, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe where Burr is a British spy, American Revolution, Anger, Angry King George III, Angst, Betrayal, Blood, Burr Angst, Burr is loyal to his friends, Burr is my favorite character and I love angst and plot twists so I freaked when I found this prompt, Burr just wants a family, Burrdosia, Canon Era, Capture, Cliffhangers, Confessions, Double Agents, Epilogue, Face Punching, Families of Choice, Father Figures, Forced into Servitude, Freedom, Friendship, Gen, George Washington is a Dad, Hamilsquad, He's never gonna betray them, Human Disaster Aaron Burr, Humor, Hurt, I went out of town and I wasn't really in a writing mood when I got back, I'm Sorry, I'm not really sure where this is headed but I'm gonna roll with it, If you have any suggestions feel free to let me know, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury Recovery, Interrogation, Kidnapping, King George III is the enemy, Lonely Aaron Burr, Love, Loyalty, Mild Blood, Minor Violence, New Beginnings, Panicking, Patriotism, Please Don't Kill Me, Poor Aaron Burr, Prompt Fic, Protect Aaron Burr, Punching, Questioning, Rating May Change, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Revenge, Revolution, Sad Backstory, Secrets, Slavery, Spies & Secret Agents, Suffering, Theodosia isn't married in this universe because Burr deserves happiness, Torture, Trust Issues, Tumblr Prompt, Warnings May Change, Washingdad, Will he be captured or not?, being stuffed into a sack isn't fun, burr is FREE, but then I realized I had no idea how to write that, description of a body, frequent updates bc I have nothing to do with my life, he never attended Princeton and all that, historical accuracy what historical accuracy, idk if this one fits but oh well, it was originally gonna be graphic but I figured I'd spare burr this time, it's gonna be amazing, like I considered a public whipping, like I just wrote this at 1 am in the morning, like a lot, mulligan loves horses, servitude, sorry that was a long wait, the Hamilfilm is incredible, the title might change if I think of a better one, there's a reason why burr is so quiet and withdrawn, unrelated but I can't wait until the Hamilton film, watch it July 3rd on disney+, watch it if you have disney+ available, we already hate James Reynolds and James Hamilton so I figured why not add another james, why do I always post chapters at night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24738685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ireallydowritelikeimrunningoutoftime/pseuds/ireallydowritelikeimrunningoutoftime
Summary: Aaron Burr hated secrets. He hated that his whole life was a lie. He hated that he couldn't control it.Forced to serve the King his whole life, Aaron Burr is sent on a mission to the colonies. Upon arriving, however, he finds that these people, who are supposed to be his enemies, aren't like the British. For the first time, he has people who care about him, and something worth fighting for. A family. Realizations are made, unlikely friendships are formed, and secrets are confessed. But the King has other plans for Burr. How will his new friends react to his confessions? What lengths will the cruel king go to in order to get Burr back? Will Aaron ever find peace?
Relationships: Aaron Burr & Alexander Hamilton & John Laurens & Lafayette & Hercules Mulligan, Aaron Burr & Benedict Arnold, Aaron Burr & Everyone, Aaron Burr & George III of the United Kingdom, Aaron Burr & George Washington, Aaron Burr/Theodosia Prevost Burr, Alexander Hamilton & John Laurens & Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette & Hercules Mulligan
Comments: 30
Kudos: 86





	1. Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw the outline for this fic on Tumblr, and I've been dying to write it ever since- I basically summarized it, this is the link to the full prompt: imnotadogiswear.tumblr.com/post/171705122649/burrfect-prompt

Aaron Burr hated secrets. He hated that his whole life was a lie. He hated that he couldn't control it.

He walked past the rows of tents, ignoring loud banter of the soldiers as they celebrated an American win. Glasses clinked together as they toasted their victory and Britain's defeat. Shouts of "To the Revolution!" rang in his ears as he hurried to the tent that would hopefully have the answers he needed. He didn't think he could bear to stay here a day longer than necessary. He hesitated before entering. He hated the very thought of invading the General's private space when Washington had only ever treated him with respect, but a job was a job. Too much was at stake for him to back out of the mission out of compassion for the enemy. It wasn't only his life he would be risking if he was to do so. He pushed away the flap and approached the desk. Only a quill, a bottle of ink, and a blank piece of parchment lay on the surface. He did a quick inspection of the rest of the tent but came out empty-handed. Burr didn't know whether he was more disappointed or relieved not to have found anything. His last conversation with the King echoed in his mind.

"I trust that you shall not disappoint me," King George had told him, eyes glinting maliciously. "I have yet to find fault with you, Burr, and let us hope it remains this way."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Burr found himself saying, the words empty and devoid of any emotion. The King detested shows of emotion, one of the reasons why Burr was his favorite. He'd always been given special treatment- he was fed more than just scraps, and the guards in charge of the King's servants had been instructed not to lay a hand on him. It made no difference to Burr. He couldn't very well indulge in his own luxury while watching those around him, starved and often beaten within an inch of their lives. The King might claim to have taken a liking to him, and show his preference towards him, but Burr knew that should he be hung, the cruel ruler wouldn't turn away or feel the slightest regret while watching him die.

"Burr!" someone called his name as he walked away, head down. "Burr, why are you not celebrating? Come, join us!" He recognized the voice as belonging to Alexander Hamilton, Washington's aide de camp. Hamilton had both a sharp tongue and a quick mind, dangerous traits for a soldier. He could often be found debating with some of the other soldiers in the camp, or joking and drinking with his friends. Burr longed to join him, considering himself a fair match for the secretary, but alas, he would never have a chance to show off his intellect, for the consequences of breaking character were dire. He looked up, unsurprised to see three other young men with him, all of them drinking and guffawing at something he knew nothing of. John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan, and the Marquis de Lafayette. The four of them were practically never seen apart from one another. Burr couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, watching them laugh and joke without a care in the world, endless possibilities ahead of them. No doubt they'd make something great of themselves, go down in history for some noble achievement. They had every opportunity in the world, while his future was set for him, completely out of his control. A life of secrets and lies was a very bleak future indeed. For a brief second, Burr considered accepting the offer, before coming to his senses. _Don't befriend the enemy,_ he chided himself. _It will only make them harder to betray._

"Have you not anything to do, gentlemen?" he asked dryly.

"Come now, Burr, we all have a need to celebrate now and then!" Laurens chortled.

"Indeed," Lafayette agreed. "My friend, let us do so together!"

"Drinks are on us!" Mulligan added, winking. Burr opened his mouth to refuse, before his eyes landed on their faces, so bright and eager. He couldn't bring himself to disappoint them.

"Why not?" he replied before he could stop the words from coming out of his mouth. He snapped it shut, horrified. The men cheered and pulled him in, placing a glass in front of him.

"To the Revolution!" they shouted, before looking expectantly at Burr, who hadn't joined them.

"To the Revolution," Burr echoed hollowly, draining the glass. It burned going down, but wasn't entirely unpleasant. He realized Laurens was saying something to him. "I apologize, I was not listening. What was it you said?"

"I asked you for your opinions on the abolitionist movement," Laurens said, looking at him eagerly. Burr swallowed, aware that all four men were watching him closely. He wanted nothing more than to discuss the movement with Laurens, to tell them how wrong slavery was, how inhumane the entire system was. He wanted to tell them that he had been enslaved, had experienced the brutal treatment firsthand. But he couldn't. He had to stay neutral, had to keep them unsuspecting.

"Perhaps another time," he said, not looking Laurens in the eye. "I must be on my way, I have matters to attend to." He stood, gave them a curt nod, and walked away, taking short, brisk steps. He could feel their eyes on him as he began to run, run as fast as his legs could take him. If only he could run away from himself.


	2. Family

The close-knit quarters made it hard to avoid someone, much less avoid a group of people. Burr knew from their frequent glances and whispers that Hamilton, Laurens, Lafayette, and Mulligan were worried about him. He pretended not to notice, but it was hard to ignore the four of them when they were huddling together behind his back. At last he couldn't take it any longer. He spun on his heel, intending to fill out paperwork in his tent while brainstorming ways to find hidden information within the camp, when he ran into the last person he wished to see after his infiltration of the General's camp; the General himself. George Washington beamed at Burr, who stood rather stiffly, unsure of what to do.

"Afternoon, Colonel Burr," General Washington greeted him. "I trust you enjoyed the festivities last night?" He chuckled, oblivious to Burr's restless composition.

"Yes, sir," Burr managed to reply, quickly stepping aside to allow the General to pass through.

"Perhaps they were a little too, ah, _rowdy_ _,_ but who am I to deny them a night of celebration after the chivalry they displayed on the field? If we continue to work hard and fight courageously, why, I dare say the British will not stand a chance!" Burr broke into a sweat. The General didn't suspect anything, did he?

"Indeed, sir." He nodded politely, hoping he would soon be left alone.

"Are you feeling well, son?" Washington asked, peering at him closely. His eyebrows were creased in concern. "Your forehead appears to be wet. Perhaps you have come down with the fever? I heard it was going around the other week."

"No, sir, I assure you, I feel quite well," Burr said, hastily wiping his brow with his handkerchief.

"Very well. Take care, son." Washington rested his hand on Burr's shoulder lightly before moving along, humming a little in good cheer. Burr stared after him, trying to push down the emotions that had risen in him at the brief contact. The way he had called him "son", the way he had seemed genuinely concerned about Burr's welfare... it had made Burr feel, well, _cared_ about. Burr shook off the feeling, his gut twisting. As his own parents had died when he was just a baby, he'd never known what it was like to have a father, but the General seemed like the kind of father he would want to have. _No,_ he told himself, _stop it. Do you hear yourself? You can't think like that!_ For God's sake, his mission was to reveal the General's secrets! It was bad enough that he had begun to care for these people, was beginning to wonder if he was on the wrong side of the Revolution after everything he'd been told. That he secretly wished he were a colonist, free from the oppressive king's rule, free to control his own life.

"Burr, are you all right?" With a start, he realized how long he'd been standing there, frozen, eyes unfocused. He blinked, turning to Hamilton, who had grabbed his shoulder.

"Fine, he said, shaking off the hand. "Perfectly fine." Trust was a foreign concept to him; he'd never confided in anyone before, and he certainly wasn't planning to start now. Hamilton didn't budge. 

"Burr, you know that we are always here, if you ever want to talk, or if anything is bothering you. We have your back." Behind him, his friends nodded in agreement. Burr's throat closed up as he grappled for the right words, words to express what Hamilton's meant to him. He opened and closed his mouth, taking a few deep breaths.

"Thank you. Really." There was nothing more he could say. They nodded, smiling at him, then walked away, leaving Burr alone with his thoughts. _What have I gotten myself into?_ he wondered, All his life, he'd been told that there was only one right side, that he shouldn't draw close to people, that they would only hurt and betray him. But here were these people, these people who fought for a cause, not because they were told it was the right one, but because they _believed_ it was the right one. Unlike the British, these people, his _friends,_ cared about liberty, about freedom. About him. _We have your back._ Burr slowly made his way back to his tent, playing the words over and over in his head. He sat down on his mattress, lost in reflection. At last, he came to a conclusion. He could no longer push aside what he felt to be true. He cared about the Revolution, cared about the American cause. He was happier, here among these men, than he had ever been in his life. And he knew that he could never betray them. He supposed he had known all along. They were his family.

So when he heard of Benedict Arnold's betrayal, heard the whispers of _mole_ and _traitor_ and _spy for the King_ _,_ he finally snapped.


	3. Betrayal

Burr stormed into Arnold's tent, fuming. The floor was littered with papers and clothing, as if someone was preparing to leave in a hurry. Arnold whirled around, pointing a gun straight at his head. Burr froze, silently cursing himself for the abrupt entrance.

"Oh, that was just you," Arnold said, lowering the gun. "What is it you need, _Colonel?"_ Burr blanched at the sneering tone he used, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You betrayed us!" Burr shouted, eyes ablaze with fury. He didn't care in the slightest if other soldiers were listening. Face red with barely suppressed rage, he took a threatening step towards Arnold, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. "You are a _traitor_ to the Revolution, to everything we fight for-"

"Do you hear yourself?" Arnold hissed. "You are a _double agent,_ Burr! You are a spy for our King! Have you forgotten where your loyalties lie?"

"No," Burr breathed, "not my King. He can go to hell, for all I care. I-" his voice shook, rising an octave higher, "am a Patriot through and through, and my loyalties lie with the Revolution!" Arnold stared at him for a moment, before bursting into laughter. "What, do you doubt my statement?" Burr demanded.

"The King will certainly be pleased to hear of your change in sides," Arnold chortled. "I imagine he will take the news very well, and leave you be without a second thought." He smirked. "We will see each other again soon, Colonel." Before Burr could register what was happening, he had grabbed his things and leapt out of the tent. Burr didn't try to follow. He had barely registered Arnold's threat, though the King's wrath was still a very real fear looming over his head. The corners of his mouth turned up, and for the first time in a lifetime, Aaron Burr smiled. Then he laughed. He strolled out of the tent, new confidence adding a spring to his step. He no longer doubted the cause he was fighting for. For the first time, he felt sure that he was where he was meant to be. He was _free._

It didn't take long to find the others. Had he been on the other side of camp, Hamilton's shouts would have still been hard to miss.

"That _bastard_ has gotten away," Hamilton was raging, "the sneaky little traitor-" Laurens was trying to quiet him, while Lafayette and Mulligan looked exasperated.

"Come now, Alex, you must have gained the attention of every person in camp-"

"Good afternoon, Colonel Burr," Lafayette interrupted both of them, offering Burr a smile. To his great surprise, Burr returned it.

"Why, Burr, what is it with you this morning?" Hamilton asked, looking astonished. "Have you not heard, Arnold escaped! Planned to surrender his fort at West Point to the British; we caught his accomplice, they say he shall be hung." Burr's high spirits weren't at all lowered by this news. 

"Ah, that is truly a shame," he said happily, trying and failing to sound the slightest bit grave or disappointed. "I never did like him," he reflected thoughtfully. "Once I caught him sneaking an extra piece of bread, but I let it slide, thinking that the General ought not to be bothered by such a mere matter." They just stared at him. Burr cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, perhaps that might be irrelevant." He took in their expressions. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Hamilton said, grinning. "No, nothing at all."

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

King George III positively shook with anger. "Are you sure?" he asked the man in front of him, not for the first time. He had risen from his throne and was pacing back and forth, growing increasingly agitated with every stride he took across the luscious carpet. "You can confirm this?"

"Quite sure, Your Majesty," Benedict Arnold replied. "Aaron Burr has turned, and is a threat to your plans." The King seethed, unwilling to believe it. Burr was his _favorite,_ and he had _trusted_ him! He had given him a bed, and food, and clothing, and this was how the man repaid him?

"I trust you will take the appropriate measures?" Arnold asked, mouth twitching.

"You may be sure of it." The King's eyes glinted maliciously, a vile grin spreading across his face. "Mark my words, he will regret the day he betrayed me."


	4. Revenge

Nobody knew what had come over Aaron Burr. In the days after Benedict Arnold's escape to England, he seemed to have transformed into a different person entirely. He could usually be found laughing and sharing drinks with a group of boisterous young men, or taking long walks with the General, who seemed to have developed a liking for him. He always had a smile or a joke for the soldiers and was willing to share his opinions with anyone who cared to hear them. For a man who had always kept to himself, the change came as a shock for those who had fought beside him. Burr quickly became popular throughout Valley Forge and was generally admired and respected by his comrades for his jovial attitude. The only cloud hovering over Burr's happiness was the ever-present fear of the King's reaction, for Arnold had surely told him of his confessions.

Fall came and went, and soon the harsh winter fell upon the soldiers, who shivered through the cold nights, blasts of icy air forcing them to huddle together in the dark. Snow lay on the ground, and the lakes had long since frozen over. Every day, Burr grew increasingly paranoid, haunted by nightmares of the forms the King's anger might take. In one of his dreadful visions, he saw his friends lying on the ground, stained red with their blood. They screamed his name while he looked on, helpless, as the King laughed mercilessly. _This is the price you pay for your betrayal._ Multiple times he had considered going to Washington and revealing the reason he had been sent to America, but his fear of the General's reaction overruled his reasoning. After all, if the King hadn't yet shown any sign of anger, perhaps he was safe after all. Perhaps, he reassured himself, his worries were for nothing.

He knew it was a lie.

Even so, when the King did send his sign, it caught him off guard.

It was one chilly afternoon when Burr was walking through the tents, nodding at the soldiers who smiled and waved on him as he passed their quarters. Though the winter was not by any means over, the frost had begun to thaw, and the nights had provided more bearable conditions, lightening the soldiers' moods considerably.

"B-Burr!" Hamilton called out, teeth chattering.

"Be a good fellow and pour me a glass," Burr said, rubbing some of the feeling back into his hands as he shook snow off his boots.

"I should be glad when this confounded winter is over," Laurens groaned, unconsciously leaning closer to Hamilton for warmth.

"We all will, mon ami." Lafayette drained his glass of whiskey, slurring ever so slightly.

"My friend, have you not consumed perhaps a little more than your fair share?" Mulligan asked, shaking his head.

"I have no notion whatsoever of what you are implying." Burr laughed.

"Perhaps Mulligan has a point," he suggested. Lafayette grumbled, shoving him playfully.

"Watch it!" Soon they were all shoving each other, laughing as they toppled onto the floor one by one, before they were all lying in a heap on the ground, piled on top of one another on the snow. They lay there, blissful. The silence was punctured by the sound of screams.

They scrambled to their feet, staring at each other with fear, before sprinting to the source of the commotion. A group of soldiers huddled together, all of them white as a sheet.

"What is it?" Burr heard Laurens ask. Hamilton pushed his way into the front of the crowd. His sharp intake of breath nearly stopped Burr's heart.

"What is this? What has happened?" He spun around as the General hurried over, looking anxious. The soldiers stepped aside, allowing Burr a clear view of the soldier on the ground. He was lying in a pool of his own blood, his unblinking eyes staring into the distance, face forever frozen with terror. But by far the most disturbing thing about his body were the letters carved into it, the source of the blood that was now trickling down the ground, turning the white snow bright red. Burr's breath caught in his throat when he saw what the letters spelled out, confirming his worst fears.

_Aaron Burr._


	5. Confessions

The world spun to a halt as Burr stood rigidly, as though paralyzed. It came to his awareness that every person had their eyes trained on him.

"Burr... why... who..." the General spluttered, mouth agape. He seemed at a loss for words. "One of you, fetch a stretcher," he said at last. One of the soldiers ran off to find one as the others continued to stare at Burr.

"Sir," he muttered, "This is a matter I would rather discuss in private, if you would be willing." Washington nodded, though Burr detected a kind of wariness in his eyes, as though the General was contemplating whether or not he could be trusted. Considering the circumstances, Burr couldn't blame him. They all turned as the soldier ran back with the stretcher. Several men lifted the victim's body onto it. Washington led Burr away from the camp, to a more isolated area. Burr didn't object when Hamilton, Laurens, Lafayette, and Mulligan joined them. After all they had done for him, they deserved to know as well. Still, looking upon the faces of the people he had grown to care for, it was a minute before he could summon the courage to open his mouth.

"Breathe, son," Washington ordered. Burr visibly relaxed at the command, drawing a deep breath. He realized that what he had seen in the General's eyes hadn't been wariness, but rather concern.

"I suppose I should start at the very beginning," he said hesitantly, staring at the ground. Lafayette rubbed his hands excitedly, and Hamilton elbowed him with a pointed look. Laurens and Mulligan stifled laughs. Burr smiled, prompting him to continue. Once he began, he couldn't seem to stop. The words flowed out of him like a river being set free after having been blocked for years upon end. He told them everything. How his parents had died when he was a young child, too young to remember them. How he and his older sister, Sarah, had moved in with their grandparents, and how, after their deaths, they had been put under the responsibility of his cruel uncle, who believed in using harsh forms of punishment as discipline. 

"I ran away, when I was around twelve or thirteen years of age, unable to put up with it any longer," he explained. He told them how he'd been kidnapped, and sent to the palace to work as a slave for the King. "There were so many other people there, so many of them just children." He later learned that his sister had run away as well. "I never heard from Sarah again." He told them of the abuse he'd endured firsthand from the King's guards. "But I had it better than most. I saw people being whipped to death for having stolen a piece of bread. It made no difference to them; the slightest crimes were viewed as felonies." After several years of this bleak lifestyle, he was sent on a mission, to infiltrate an enemy camp. He obtained the desired documents with ease, for fear of how the King would react had he done otherwise. Pleased, the King made him one of his personal servants, freeing him from servitude. His conditions weren't ideal, but he no longer had to beg for food. "I executed every task I was given to the best of my abilities, my reasoning being that there was nothing for me to lose, and that if I gained the King's trust, I could find a way to end the inhumane treatment of those within the castle, and free them from bondage." He soon became the King's most trusted assistant, and was sent on the most important missions, often the most dangerous. Still, the King kept a close eye on him, unwilling to lose his best agent.

"In my mission to gain his trust, I ultimately made it so that my every move was closely watched, and had I been engaging in suspicious activity, the King would have been the first to know. Days and weeks and months and years all blended together, and none of the missions differed from each other." He looked each of his friends in the eye. "None, until this one. I was sent to obtain military secrets, to reveal your plans against the British." He took a breath to steady himself, voice cracking. "This means so much more to me than any of that." He told them how he had come to support the Revolution, after much internal struggle, and how he cared about each and every person at camp. "No amount of riches could make up for my time here. I will fight for this land, because it is my home, and nobody, not the King himself, can take that away from me. I just hope you can forgive me."

For a minute after he finished his story, his friends were silent. Then Hamilton nearly tackled him, closely followed by Laurens, Lafayette, and Mulligan. They clung to him tightly, promising that they didn't blame him, berating him for not telling them sooner, assuring them that they cared about him and would always be there for him. Burr was too stunned to thank them. It was the first time he'd ever been hugged. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Washington smiling at him, eyes glistening with tears.

"I am sorry for everything you have been through," he told him. "Do not think for even a moment any of it was your fault. And they certainly shall not come near you again."

"Over our dead bodies!" Hamilton chimed in, and everyone nodded in agreement. Recovering from his shock, Burr opened his mouth once more to thank them. Instead, he broke down, all the walls he had built throughout his life breaking, making way for the wave of emotions that flooded down his cheeks. His friends hugged him, held him, let him feel something he couldn't remember ever before feeling. _Safe_.


	6. Capture

It had been several weeks since the King's unnerving warning, and Burr had begun to release the fear of a sudden attack, or worse yet, another unexpected murder. Confiding in his friends had certainly done him well, as he no longer had to carry the heavy burden of a secret. He found that it was far easier to present himself as relaxed and carefree when his appearance reflected his true feelings, but it had taken some getting used to. He felt lucky to have Hamilton and his friends, who were quick to assure him that everything he was going through was perfectly normal.

Mulling everything over, Burr turned over in his state of half-sleep. He thought he heard footsteps, but dismissed it as a trick of his mind, for who would be up at this hour of the night? Noticing that the sound had become a good deal clearer, he vaguely wondered if one of the soldiers was walking in his sleep and had stumbled upon Burr's tent. He rolled over once more, trying to find a more comfortable position. He was beginning to drift off when a loud bang startled him awake. "Quiet," someone hissed in his ear, while quickly binding his hands together with a rope, just loose enough to keep his circulation from being _entirely_ cut off. "Do not move." His reflexes kicked in, and he opened his mouth to scream, the gunshot ringing in his ears.

He never got the chance.

Burr tried to fight back as a gag was shoved roughly into his mouth, but never even got a proper look at his captor before he was thrown into what seemed like a sack, none too gently. He thrashed and kicked, but could feel the gun jabbed at him through the burlap, pressing into his stomach. Now that he'd stopped struggling, he could hear the muffled shouts from outside his tent. No doubt the gunshot had caused a commotion. He allowed himself to hope that the General might intervene, but his hope drained away as he violently lurched back and forth in the sack while his captor, almost certainly one of the King's agents, ran away. It was dark, and the soldiers, stumbling around in confusion, weren't likely to notice that he was missing until someone checked his tent. By the time one of his friends had reached it, he would be long gone.

It was a long journey, with much jostling and jerking in different directions. Burr struggled to breathe, but his efforts of minimal inhalation only resulted in his taking shorter, more frequent breaths. Even focusing on his breathing couldn't take his mind off of his great discomfort, as he was curled up in a rather inconvenient position, with his legs drawn close to his face and his arms held together by the binding of his hands. He had tried to spit the gag out to no avail, though he wouldn't have dared speak in any case, for fear of being shot. He doubted the King would care should his body be delivered in place of his living form. Burr wondered if the King had given orders for him to be brought in alive, then wished he hadn't. For a man who had never minded spending hours lost in thought, tuning out the world around him, at times even welcoming the loneliness, it was surprising that the silence was so deafening.

He thought of Hamilton and Laurens and Lafayette and Mulligan, of Washington and of all the soldiers who had gladly shared drinks and made conversation with him. What were they doing now? How had they reacted to the gunshot? Had they discovered his absence? Would they know that he'd been taken against his will? Would they realize who had given the orders to capture him? As the sack gave another sudden jerk, causing him to accidentally jab a finger into his eye, he pondered his greatest question, possibly the hardest to answer.

 _What is to become of me?_

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hamilton paced back and forth, wringing his arms in distress. "Who could have taken him, sir?" he cried out, whirling around to face the General, whose pale face mirrored those of his and his friends. As soon as they had heard the gunshot, the five of them had practically sprinted to Burr's tent, only to find an empty bed, no trace of their friend to be found. To say they were panicking now would be an understatement. Washington exhaled slowly, trying to stay collected in the face of a nightmare. He couldn't afford to break down now, not when Burr needed them. Who, indeed?

"Monsieur, we have been fools!" Lafayette suddenly cried out, startling him back into reality.

"Of course!" Laurens slapped his forehead. Hamilton looked up, his eyes widening. Washington could tell he connected the dots at the same moment the rest of them did. They stared at each other, horrorstruck. After what Burr had told them, none of them wanted to think of what the King might do their friend.

"I swear-" Hamilton growled, looking more furious than the time Washington had banned him from working for fear that he would collapse from exhaustion (Though he had still insisted on finishing the essay he had been writing when the General had found him at three in the morning). 

"Mark my words, if I ever get my hands on that bastard-" Mulligan declared.

"Gentlemen, we have no time to lose!" Washington ordered, though Hamilton could tell that his voice was shaking ever so slightly. "Burr's life is in our hands, and we cannot fail him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is completely unrelated to the fic (besides the fact that it's Hamilton) but LIN POSTED THE TRAILER LAST NIGHT AND I AM STILL FREAKING OUT!!! I don't think I've screamed so loudly since he announced the movie would be on Disney+, and I've never been so excited about something in my life.
> 
> On another note... please don't kill me for what's coming next.


	7. Torture

His first thought when they threw him onto the hard stone floor was _I need to get out of here._ Unfortunately, his captor had anticipated this. Before he could even get to his feet, which proved to be a struggle due to the fact that his limbs had been entangled for hours, he was restrained by three men, all of whom he recognized as agents for the King. British soldiers, none of whose loyalty had ever been questioned. He was forcefully bound to a chair, though he fought against the restraints with all his might, kicking and swinging his fists at them. His captor, who he now recognized as James Smith, one of the King's most loyal advisors, ripped out his gag and tossed it to the floor. A quick scan of his surroundings told Burr he was in the King's dungeons. The cold unforgiving walls seemed just as harsh as the only other time he had visited the cells, when he had been sent to deliver food and water to the prisoners who were being kept alive for questioning. To this day, their screams haunted him in his nightmares.

"You want to escape, flee into the arms of your precious general?" Smith sneered at him.

Swallowing his pride, Burr nodded vehemently, hoping they would take him for a fool. "Yes, indeed, I do. Gentlemen, I implore you, I am certain we can reach an agreement, one that will work for the both of us." The soldier's eyes darkened. 

"Do not attempt to talk your way out of this, Burr," he spat. "His Majesty trusted you! I suppose you had always been secretly plotting to betray us."

"No, I assure you-"

"SILENCE!" he thundered, gesturing to the other soldiers, who surrounded Burr, all of them leering at him. "Boys, let us see how long it will take this filthy little traitor to crack."

The next few hours were miserable. The men circled Burr, flinging question after question at him. "When is the next attack? Where do you get your weapons? Who are the American spies?" On and on they went, each question accompanied by a swing at his face. All the while a gun was pressed against his forehead; he winced at the cold metal against his skin. The blows hardly bothered him, as he'd suffered far worse at the hands of his uncle, when he was a mere child. Still, as the men grew increasingly aggressive, it was hard to retain his composure through the pain.

"I will _never_ betray my friends!" Burr ground out, gritting his teeth with suppressed cries. "Kill me if you will, but you will gain nothing from it."

"By the time we are through with you, you will be begging for mercy!"

"I _am_ begging for mercy, James. No man should ever be subjected to your foul breath." He smirked at Smith's indignant expression, but the satisfaction was fleeting. His cheek was rewarded with a direct punch to the jaw. Blood flowed freely from his mouth, and he was certain at least a few of his teeth had been knocked out, but somehow the uncomfortable tickling sensation caused by the blood trickling down his neck bothered him more than the agonizing throbs. Despite his best efforts to contain it, a groan of pain slipped out. Smith leered at him, pleased.

"That was just a taste of what we can do to you, Burr. You are completely and utterly powerless, and you might as well save your neck while you are under the rule of our King."

" _Your_ King," Burr growled, blood dripping down his wrists from his attempts to break the rope. "As for what I think of your high and mighty ruler?" He gathered all the blood and saliva in his mouth, and spat directly in Smith's face, who growled back.

"Are you certain we cannot kill him?" Smith asked the other soldiers, his eyes never leaving Burr's.

"Yes, His Majesty made it quite clear that he was to be presented alive, in case the questioning failed. Perhaps he wishes for a public execution?" Burr shivered at the thought of his severed head on a pole, and his stomach rebelled at the thought. If they did kill him in public, he hoped his body wouldn't be in the King's possession. He couldn't bear to think of what the crazy old man might do with it.

"...approved all methods, so as long as he speaks," he heard one of the soldiers saying as he forced his mind to stop tormenting him with ghastly images of broken limbs and bloodied corpses.

"Good," Smith replied. "Speak he shall, I will see to that." He drew something from behind his back. Burr's blood ran cold when he saw what it was.

"Ah, yes," Smith smiled coldly. "We will see exactly how far your loyalties stretch, traitor." He unsheathed the knife, admiring the sharp curve of the blade, crusted with dried blood. "If you fail to cooperate, I am afraid the consequences will be dire."

"What I said before remains true, Smith."

"Have it your way, then." For a moment, all was still in the dungeons.

As the first scream ripped out of his throat, piercing the silence, Burr sent a silent message to his friends, desperately clinging to their faces through his blurred thoughts. His pleas for help unanswered, he slumped against the chair. Through his cries, he grasped the last clear word he could wrap his mind around before blacking out.

_Hurry._


	8. Rescue

Burr spent the night in a wakeful sleep, focusing on his breathing through the daze of pain. Early at dawn, something clattered above his head, and he looked up warily, praying it wasn't Smith, coming to further torment him. It seemed like an eternity had passed before Smith finally released him. By that point, his eyes stung and blurred his vision from the tears, and his throat was raw from screaming. He wasn't at all eager to relive the nightmare once more. What he didn't know was that at that very moment, his friends were navigating their way through the castle, trying to find the dungeons.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hamilton glared at Laurens, who had tripped over a stray set of armor on the floor.

"Sorry!" he whispered, looking mortified.

"Be more careful, mon ami, for our friend's life is in peril!"

"Ever so dramatic, Lafayette." Mulligan shook his head, feeling as though he was among three unruly schoolboys.

"Gentlemen!" Washington interjected, "please!" All of them blanched; the commander's whisper was equal to that of a common man's normal voice. "We _must_ find his location and ensure that he is alone before we waste any more of our precious time! I am certain the King has stationed at least one guard in front of his cell, but for all we know there could be several of them-"

"Sir!" Hamilton hissed, interrupting him mid-sentence. "I found it!" They hurried over to where he was standing. Hamilton pointed at the door, built in to look like a tile on the floor. After a brief second of hesitation, he yanked the knob, revealing a winding staircase that undoubtedly led to the dungeons. They peered down, but weren't able to see the bottom, the flickering light of their candles being the only glow in the darkness. One by one, they stepped onto the stairs, all of them clambering down noisily until Washington shot them a look. Trying to step more lightly, they walked for what felt like hours. It had been, at the very least, some fifteen minutes when one of them pointed at a very faint glow of light in the distance. It was the glow from a guard's lantern, past the bottom of the staircase. Beyond him, they could see the bars of a cell, bars that held their friend.

"Lights out, gentlemen," Washington whispered, and they blew out their candles. Trying not to trip over one another in the pitch-black darkness ("Ouch! Lafayette, that was my foot!" came a muffled yelp from one of the soldiers), they tiptoed down the last few steps and pressed themselves against a wall, praying they couldn't be seen by the lantern. When Washington had confirmed that the guard was indeed, the only one, he nudged at Hamilton, who poked Laurens, Lafayette, and Mulligan, who grinned in the dark and clasped hands with him. Washington tapped a finger against Hamilton's palm. _One, two, three..._

In perfect unison, they leapt out together, Hamilton and Laurens tackling the guard head-on, while Lafayette and Mulligan restrained him as the General bound his arms and legs together, hastily stuffing a gag in his mouth, muffling his startled shouts. Washington scanned the soldier, before spotting the key, strung on his belt. Hamilton spotted it at the same time he did and deftly plucked it from the belt, making quick work with the cell door in front of him. Laurens grabbed the lantern, which had clattered to the floor.

" _I_ will take that, thank you very much!" The guard looked as though he would like nothing more than to punch him in the jaw.

Together, they pushed open the door, praying they had not failed in their mission. Barging inside, they saw a man bound to a chair and pressed against a wall. They couldn't quite make out his face in the darkness. They approached him, hearts pounding, Laurens holding the lantern in front of him. Washington was the first to see that it was indeed, the man they had been pursuing.

"Colonel Burr?" he asked, face breaking into one of his rare smiles. Hamilton strode over and cut the ropes that held him in the chair. Burr stood, tottering as though on the verge of fainting, and abruptly collapsed in the General's arms.


	9. Safe

When his friends burst into the room, wild looks on their faces, Burr thought he was hallucinating, a result of pain and exhaustion, not to mention his throbbing forehead. Then Washington reached out and touched his arm. "Colonel Burr?" Different emotions coursed through his veins, joy and relief being the most prominent. In a flash, Hamilton drew a knife from his sleeve and cut through his restraints, helping him to his feet. Burr looked at his friends' faces, illuminated by the lantern Laurens held, and was overcome by emotion. Blinking back tears, he opened his mouth to thank them.

Needless to say, he was mortified when this resulted in his collapsing in the General's arms.

Embarrassed, he mumbled an inaudible apology as his friends gasped, all of them rushing to support him. "I am fine," he insisted as they bombarded him with questions. _"F_ _ine!"_ Wordlessly, Laurens pointed a shaky hand at his clothing, splattered with blood. He looked down, away from their concerned gazes. "We need to leave, get back to camp, before he comes back."

"He?" Hamilton asked, fuming.

"One of the King's men," Burr clarified hastily while taking a few experimental steps, pleased to find that he had regained his balance, though he still felt rather woozy. "Have you horses to ride?" They looked at each other, biting their lips.

"Well... you see..." Lafayette trailed off.

"The horses escaped," Mulligan supplied helpfully. Washington nodded, brow furrowed.

"We need horses, we cannot make it back on foot..."

"Well, what exactly is the problem?" Burr asked bluntly. "We can just, ah, _borrow_ the King's horses. The King keeps the horses in a large stall somewhere to the left of the gardens, his men use them when riding to distant locations." They stared at him, before breaking into grins.

"Why did we not think of that?" Hamilton asked, shaking his head in wonder.

"Monsieur, do you think stealing the enemy's horses would double as a patriotic act?" Lafayette asked the General, who nodded at Burr. He wouldn't normally encourage thievery, but in this case...

"Absolutely. What are we waiting for gentlemen? We have horses to stea- pardon me, _borrow_." 

It took them much less time to find their way outside than in, as Burr remembered the halls and chambers from his time spent serving the King. The horses weren't hard to obtain either, and they each chose one, picking the strongest, most well-built ones, as they would likely withstand longer periods of riding. The only setback was when they had to practically drag Mulligan away from the stall.

"Look at _this_ beauty!" he told a very bemused Lafayette, stroking a handsome Chesnut, whose tail swished back and forth in pleasure. _"Who, me?"_ he asked in a deeper voice, speaking for the horse, who threw its head back and brayed. "Yes, you!" he cooed, reverting to his normal voice. Lafayette cleared his throat.

"Er, Herc? We have a mission at hand!" Mulligan sighed regretfully, tearing his gaze away from the horse.

"Goodbye, my friend." He mounted his horse, ignoring the strange looks his friends were giving him. "Well? Are you just going to stand there and waste more time?" He galloped off before they could answer. Shaking their heads, the others followed.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It had been several weeks since Burr's friends had broken him out, and several days since his injuries had been deemed healed, though his friends still watched his every move as if he was on the verge of a heart attack (it didn't bother him as much as it once might have). He hadn't even realized how bad it was until he folded over on his horse halfway back to camp, nearly falling off. He would have too, if it weren't for the General's quick reflexes. They had tended to his wounds to the best of their abilities, but still raced through the remainder of the journey as fast as the horses would take them, and rushed him to the medical tent the moment they reached camp. Hamilton and Laurens told the tale in exaggerated detail ("saved from Death's clutches, we raced in a battle against time as the seconds of your life ticked away...") and acted it out in great detail, but Washington was still shaken by how close they had come to losing him. He and Hamilton, Laurens, Lafayette, and Mulligan had stayed by Burr's side throughout all of his recovery. Now he could laugh and joke and romp with them once more, as though no time at all had passed, save for the faded scar on his lower chest.

"But sir," he asked the General one afternoon, as they took one of their long walks through camp. "Will the King leave me be after all I have done to defy him? After all, he must be furious with me."

"Oh, he is, my boy," Washington chuckled, waving to several nearby soldiers. "But not just for the reasons you have in mind."

"What-" he began to ask, when Hamilton, who had overheard, interjected.

"We sent him a letter, you see."

"I had it personally delivered," Laurens informed him, grinning. "It was a mission of the utmost risk, for the consequences would have been fatal-"

"Mission?" Mulligan snorted.

"You accidentally stumbled upon the King's quarters while we were looking for a staircase," Lafayette pointed out.

"You had to spoil the fun," Laurens grumbled. "So anyway, we had written a letter that we intended to leave in your place, but the opportunity was simply too splendid to pass up."

"Let us just put it this way; that pathetic excuse for a King will never go anywhere near you again," Hamilton told him.

"Not only that," Washington added, "but his crimes will not go without consequence. It might not surprise you to learn that the King has engaged in suspicious activity regarding several wealthy men in England." Burr shook his head. "Yes, well, the public did not react with great revere to the news that their King has risen to certain positions of power through blackmail, not to mention evidence that suggests he was responsible for multiple kidnappings, many of missing children."

"Suffice to say, you are now forever free from his evil clutches," Hamilton summarized dramatically. Burr blinked, trying to wrap his head around the word. _Free_. For the first time, he was really, truly, honest-to-God free. He thought his face might just split in half from smiling as he half-sobbed out his thanks while embraced in a bone-crushing hug by his friends. For the first time, he felt safe.


	10. Love (Epilogue)

**Fall 1781**

The war was done and over with, and the world seemed to shift, or as Hamilton put it, "Turn upside down." All throughout the nation, people flooded the streets, the sky full with the sound of screams and ringing church bells. To an outsider, the crowd might have seemed rowdy, but the celebration was music to Burr's ears. It wasn't just their new-gained freedom that heightened his state of joy, but his own personal victory. He had found a place where he belonged, where he could leave a mark, a legacy. He had found a family, a group of people who he cared for and who cared for him, people who had risen to tests of their devotion and emerged having proven their unquestionable loyalty. Though content with his new life, however, there was just one missing factor he secretly longed for, something that would complete him. _Someone_ to complete him. When Aaron Burr found her, she took him by surprise.

He was walking through camp, heading towards his quarters for perhaps the last time, when someone grabbed his arm, pulling him behind a tent. "There you are!" Lafayette exclaimed. "We have been searching for you everywhere, mon ami!" Burr took in Lafayette and Mulligan's half-amused, half-exasperated expressions, and sighed.

"What have they done this time?" he asked. By now, it was almost a second reflex.

"Stole a bottle of the General's best booze," Mulligan informed him. "Drunk as skunks, the two of them." Burr groaned. He imagined Washington's reaction, hoping he wouldn't be the one who told him, like the last time and all the times before that.

"We saved some for you!" Hamilton piped in, popping up suddenly behind them. None of them reacted in the slightest. He held up a half-empty bottle of alcohol, sharing a slightly sheepish grin with Laurens.

"Come now, we deserve to have a little fun after all the work we have done!" Laurens slurred, stumbling into Burr. "A little celebration never hurt anybody!" Mulligan grabbed him by the cuff of his collar before both men toppled over. "Whoops."

"We brought glasses!" Hamilton added, handing them out. He gave each of them a generous pour, drinking what was left directly from the bottle. "A toast to friendship, to bravery, to the Revolution, and most importantly, to freedom!"

"To freedom!" they echoed, draining their glasses.

"Ah, I wondered where that booze had gone," said someone approaching them from behind. Hamilton and Laurens froze, looking as though they were small children who had been caught stealing sugar from the sugar bowl.

"Your Excellency, sir!" Laurens bellowed, leaping forward and saluting him, falling backward as he did so. Burr managed to catch him before he hit the ground, and set him on his feet with a pointed look. The General took in the empty bottle of alcohol, the empty glasses in their hands, and the guilty expressions on their faces.

"I apologize, I hope I did not interrupt whatever it was you were doing."

"No, sir," Burr replied. "Lieutenant Hamilton and Colonel Laurens were merely toasting our victory and the comradery shown by our fellow soldiers." Hamilton sent him a grateful look.

"I see," Washington chuckled. "Very well, then. I suppose it would not be fair of me to admonish you when we are all in such high spirits, and when I will soon no longer be your commander." Hamilton and Laurens visibly deflated, relieved. "However, I will ask that you two stay out of trouble." Hamilton hummed, not meeting his eyes. Laurens didn't even pretend to agree. Washington sighed. "Try to stay out of trouble?" he suggested.

"Yes, sir," they chorused together. Washington nodded, as though trying to convince himself it was true. Burr just smiled.

"I must gather my belongings," he told them, saluting the General. "Good day, sir."

Rounding the corner of tents, swerving to avoid a group of merry soldiers, he ran straight into someone. Drawing back, Burr saw the person was a woman, with dark curls spilling out of her bonnet and eyes that twinkled in amusement. His jaw dropped, and he could feel his heart racing. He tried to stop staring but found himself unable to focus on anything else. _She's very pretty._ "I- I apologize, madam," he stammered, bowing his head at her. "I should have been paying better attention to where I was going."

"'Tis quite alright," she laughed. He couldn't help but notice the way her curls bounced when she did so, and how when she smiled, her whole face seemed to light up.

"Is there a way I may be of assistance to you, madam?" Burr asked, hoping she didn't take him for a fool.

"Yes, could you direct me to General Washington? I wish to speak to him regarding a letter I sent him several months ago."

"Certainly, Miss-."

"Theodosia Bartow."

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Bartow," he replied, bending down to kiss her hand.

"Please, call me Theodosia," Theodosia insisted, blushing furiously.

"Perhaps I might interest you in a tour of the camp?" Burr suggested, all thoughts of packing forgotten. "I would not wish for a lady such as yourself to be lost among the many directions you might find yourself taking."

"Why not?" she agreed, taking his arm. All thoughts of the General flew from her mind as Burr beamed, causing her to blush even harder. Arm in arm, they walked down the rows of tents together, laughing and discussing their stances on a variety of topics, including politics, philosophy, and feminism. To their shock and delight, they had much in common regarding their views, and both felt as though an instant connection had taken place between them. Later, Theodosia would claim that she had known he was the one during a rare disagreement in their opinions regarding government authority, when he had treated her with nothing but respect, assuring her that he would never try and change her beliefs, as he considered himself no more intelligent than her. Burr, however, would laugh and say that he had fallen in love with her that very first meeting, when he first heard her laugh.

All his life, his story had been written for him. Now, it was time to end that chapter and start a new one. There would be challenges and obstacles to overcome, but as long as he had Theodosia by his side, he was willing to take those risks.

"My name is Aaron Burr, and my story is just beginning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does the ending make sense? I wrote it at night while my head was full of jumbled Hamilton lyrics, so you guys will have to tell me if it does!
> 
> Yes, I loved the movie, it was everything I had hoped for and more. I watched it yesterday for the first time with my family, and once more today, when I hosted an epic sing-along (consisting of one person, but that didn't make it any less fun) and oh my gosh, I don't even have the words to describe what it was like seeing the songs come to life through the incredible set, amazing choreography, and of course, the INSANELY talented cast. Leslie Odom Jr.'s out-of-this-world voice made me originally fall in love with Burr, and seeing him in the film reminded me why his portrayal of Burr made him my favorite character. I laughed and cried and felt a million different emotions during the show, but by far my favorite moment in the entire thing was Leslie singing Wait For It- if I had to use one word to describe it, that word would be breathtaking. Thank you, Lin, thank you for everything you have given and continue to give us- we truly don't deserve you. Look around, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now.


End file.
